Here lies Sarah Walker, A Killer
by fAteD lOvE
Summary: This piece is more serious than how I would usually write, but "THE EPISODE" just called for an introspection/character study...so here it is- In the dark of night, Chuck tries to unravel the enigma that is one Sarah Walker.


I hope Dreamwalker isn't reading this, because I would shock him with the utter mess that is below: it's a pretty unstructured musing of episode 11. Please forgive me, I've only gone over this a few times so it may have more than a few flaws, I promise to give it a second draft later.

Please keep in mind this is shortly after the end of the episode, so Chuck's thoughts are pretty scattered and muddled; therefore as is my writing. Also, it helps to remember that Chuck only heard the end part of Mauser's taunt, then saw Sarah shoot him after he asked her to take him in (which would have looked pretty cold-blooded to Chuck), so he may judge Sarah harsher than he would normally.

Disclaimer: I wouldn't want to take responsibility for episode 11 thank you very much, because then my inbox would be spammed full of hate mail from Charah crazed fans.

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**"Here lies Sarah Walker, A Killer." **

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_'I hope she'll smile for me before she shoots; I want that picture to be the last I see of her, not the one of her Agent side.'_

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There's this woman. We've been going out for around a year, which is usually enough for real couples to get to know each other pretty well. She's my friend, my protector. She's blond, bold, and _so_ _very_ beautiful. And she's currently lying in my arms like an angel, looking... Natural. Normal. Loving.

-lying in my stiff, _stiff_ arms that I circle around her waist and under her head, that are only positioned there so I don't alert her to the fact that there's anything wrong. Because god help me, there's a _lot_ wrong.

It's not the constant killing that she calls her job. I can respect that. I can respect the way her conscience allows her to give her body to bad men in the name of her country. Some might even call that patriotism. I can even respect and admire the way she can fire a gun, kick any man's ass, and the way she stands guard over me like a mother bear. I love that, because that's Sarah Walker, the woman who makes sure I live another day to see my friends and my family, that's the woman who has my heart...and my mother's bracelet.

But what irks me, is the way she can continue to construct multiple barriers each time I manage to knock one down. The way when I solve one of her mysteries, several more pop up. The way she shies from any contact that's not for our cover. That when something personal -_something_ between us happens-, it's always me who's asking why, asking what's next, apologizing.

It's me who pushes us forward, although it was _her _who gave us potential; our first conversation involving knowledge of the real events unfolding around me, _she_ said, "_Trust me_". And I have. Through ex-boyfriends, ex-girlfriends, seductresses, gunfire, smuggler girlfriends, killing, lying, cheating, and outsmarting international thugs.

She hasn't let me down until now. In a way, she hasn't actually let me down, she's kept her word that she wouldn't let anyone hurt me... I just never thought she took it _that literally_. I didn't know 'protecting' me involved a piece of metal traveling at a high velocity embedding itself in a man's head instead of the alternative of arresting him, for some reason I don't think that's what Mauser wanted when he said "_I'm ready to go_". And it also irks me, the way she thinks lying to me about what really happened is for my own sake.

Because I _know_ what really happened. I _saw_ it.

I know the way Sarah looked, her stance strong and balanced, arms holding her gun steadily aimed straight at a defenseless Mauser. I know how it shook me when I got my first glimpse of them at a standstill, the dreamlike quality of the whole scene exerberated by the falling rain and hazy mist (how ironic it was raining, taken right out of a horror movie).

But that wasn't what rattled me, I trusted her, she would do the right thing when Mauser said "_So take me in, Agent Walker_", and I was proved right when her gun lowered, her head sank slightly, and my heart stopped thudding so loudly. It didn't even had a chance though, before it seized in a near heart attack when I saw how swiftly her arm snapped up, her gaze forward, stony, and in a split second squeezed the trigger with no hesitation, and the muffled thump of what was once a living being slumped to the floor with a hole in his forehead.

It was the glance at her face that chilled my blood more than the blanket of snow on the ground, it's the first time I wonder if the person who first used the complimentary sentence 'killer eyes' really knew what they were saying. Her face was so cold, blank, nothing she'd ever shown me; now I know why, I would've run in the opposite direction.

A voice, a rational one, tells me in my head that she did it for me. Mauser knew who the Intersect was hidden in, he was a danger to me, I should be glad I can spend my Christmas at home, my cover still secure. But I still can't reconcile myself with the fact of her taking a life so easily, exactly against how I try to help anyone and everyone. We're supposed to be the good guys, Sarah, and Casey, and me.

It was the 'good guy' image that I had always paralleled to Sarah, along with the silly dream I had been harbouring when I gave her mom's trinket. How I naively likened her and I to my mother and father by bestowing the gift on her. She seemed to like it, by the way she was drawn to me when we hugged, and I her. Now, all I feel are opposing forces of attraction. I don't know if she noticed the way I shrunk slightly with her presence. I heard her, heard my name called in her familiar voice. "_Chuck_!" Then I was being enveloped with her scent, her kiss, her hands, her arms, before I even turned.

The last time I saw her, "_Trust me_", she impressed on me- now, she's feeding me a lie, with her eyes locked on mine without a hint of guilt or remorse, an open beam on her face. I'm knocked of my breath when I see just how well she acts, how if I hadn't seen her act of violence before, I would've been fooled into thinking she had spared the man. Who knows what else I've been told is falsehood? That puts the last twelve months into question, the last twelve months that I let her lead me with my eyes blindfolded.

My heart clenches like Casey's hand is seizing it with a firm grip, it hurts to think that she might've been lying to me all this time and I'd swallow whatever she's given me. I don't understand; did she think that it'd make everything easier, if we just never discussed it? Or had she found it easier to slip into a habit of smoothly lying when she wanted a way out?

Even the warmth of her body from our goodbye hug before she was let out as a hostage, I couldn't feel anymore. My body was frozen, numb; I think I may have been in shock. All I felt were goose bumps, and not the good kind.

I try my best to be understanding, I really should discuss this whole fiasco with her... but I'm afraid, I'm terrified that if I do, the things she says to placate me -the things about my life, the agent in her- will be too much for me, that it'll overwhelm the nice girl-next-door image I had of her just this morning. I don't want to replace that pretty girl with a machine, because that'll mean I can't have her, that it'll emphasise how much still sets us apart, and how it'll take so long for me to trust her and know her again.

I suddenly think of Casey: I know he's the same, but it's easier to think of him in the terms 'cold-hearted', because of the way he is, the way that 'killer appearance' is that one he has on 24/7. It can't be confused with any other sides of him, because that's the only one- unlike the multifarious fascias that Sarah presents me with constantly, that wander across her face much like wandering nomads almost as if she can't settle for just one.

So I try to pretend nothing's wrong.

I still remind her of our cover date tomorrow, I hug and kiss her when she arrives. I stay by her side through the evening, I laugh when she says something funny, I cuddle her when she leans into me and pull out her chair at dinner. But all this- I do with a sense of detachment and try to keep the frown from my face; it's like an out of body experience. I think Sarah believes I'm still freaked out by what happened last night, and rightly so, but not by the same scenarios that she thinks I'm dwelling on.

I twitch involuntarily when she asks to stay, I accept because Ellie and Devon expect it since we've been together so long and I try not to let my apprehension show in my movements. And now, with her tucked under my chin in the position that we found we both were partial to a few weeks ago, I lay awake, unable to fall asleep, the images of her calmly (can I call it murdering?)- someone are burned clearly into my mind's eye. I wonder mildly that if she ever gets the order to kill me, will she look like that? I hope she'll smile for me before she shoots, I want that picture to be the last I see of her, not the one of her Agent side.

Who's the real Sarah Walker? I ask myself. I know I thought I knew this woman, didn't think twice before declaring that _"I'm not buying the whole Scrooge act...underneath that spy cover is a regular person just like the rest of us_". But I finally get a glimpse of what she's trying to tell me, and why she's been so hesitant to start anything with me: because she didn't want me to see the Agent, didn't think I'd understand. I thought I could accept the whole her, I didn't know what I was saying, as infatuated as I was, blind to reality, blind to everything except what she's been showing me.

I know I said she looks like an angel right now, moonlight glow around her face and all. But somehow that doesn't fit, nor does any of the labels I've linked to her over this year. And truthfully, I'm scared, and kinda guilty, because right now my brain is projecting six words I really wish weren't running through my mind as I look down at her snuggled into me:

"Here lies Sarah Walker, A Killer."

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I'm sorry! I'm sorry for turning Sarah into a questionable character in Chuck's eyes. But it's just for now, until they make up, confess their undying love, get married and then make babies in six weeks when the series comes back! :D

I don't mind if I don't get reviews, I just wanted to use the title that randomly popped into my head, so I wrote a whole character study of Sarah from "THE EPISODE" (which we are now going to refer the horror that was episode 11 as).

I hope you people aren't all going to flee at Christmas, because I'll have a Xmas fic up sometime around the celebratory period. I was going to post it now, but 1) I haven't edited it, 2) It seemed more appropriate to post it later as it's called "_The Twelve Days of Christmas: 11 failed attempts of seducing Sarah Walker, the last one that succeeds_".

...And just so you know, I think I _could maybe _suffer through a few reviews if I _had_ to...


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